Nowing
by TDTC
Summary: Shade after Firewing... undeath isn't as exciting or bliss as you think. Rated T because the books were.


The people below him rise from their seats and begin to make their way towards the exit. He can see their huge feet hit the ground, but he can hear nothing. He is right above them, but he can't smell them. He can fly in front of their gigantic eyes, but they can't see him. Their mouths open and close as the few remaining people exit the room, but they aren't talking to him. Because he is dead.

He doesn't know what the place he is in is called, but it seems to be important. Many humans are gathered in here. All of their attention was on a lone human at the back of the room, reading from something humans call a book propped on a pedestal. When he flew through them, he could feel spiritual energy rising. Are they plotting? Maybe so - they could have been contacting the gods themselves. Maybe the lone human was and they were speaking to the gods through him. If only he could understand them, if only he was still alive. He could stop whatever was going on, he could find out more about it.

But he's not alive. He killed himself; his death was for his son (and his son's friend, but he didn't know that at the time), but he killed himself. He alone lies with the blame, and the sacrifice was a good one. His son would not give into the ways of pysical strength, no, he would be like him - sneaky, resourceful, and looked down upon. He needed to have been looked down upon, why else was he so great?

His face contorts into an ugly grimace - or, at least, he thinks it does - and he travels past the ceiling. For a moment he can only see wood, then he is into the sky again. Darkness covers the city, but it found its own way of surviving. Bright lights shine from the tall trees that are called buildings. He would normally be blinded by the bright light, but he can't now.

Cama Zotz is going to bring the dead up into the world of the living, where he is. Sooner or later, it has taken him quite a few years. Still, it doesn't sound so bad anymore, but, then again, nothing sounds bad to him anymore.

Four years. Four long, unbearable years he has been alone. For the first couple of years, he stayed next to his mate and son, and acted as if they could see and understand him. He seemed to laugh, he seemed to talk, he pretended that he knew what they were saying. Soon he had forgotten that he was dead, but he remember soon enough. Earlier this year he had tried to fly as high up as he could, but as he passed a gigantic, mishappen bird, he decided that he should try something else. So instead he let himself drop, just to see if he could go back to the Underworld and do something - maybe stop the insane quest. Maybe he would just hit something and his entire being would shatter. Instead, he stopped at the last moment and found himself in this city.

He circles a part in the ground with long slits in it. He always thought that he would be taken care of Nocturna and death would be a sort of reward for sitting through life so long. He passes through the slits in the ground. Death is a punishment for not living longer and being of use. The area around him is dark and wet, and he doesn't want to see as he fumbles down the tunnel. Maybe death is a punishment for not being restricted to things like eating, thus making you more like a god. The tunnel is silent except for a few small noises, such as scratching. Maybe the gods want you to explore the miraculous world they've made, and because there is so much to see, you can never leave or stop looking. He stops as a creature not unlike his mortal form turns to him. Maybe the gods have decided that you've lived long enough. A rat, covered in filth, walks closer to him to grab a round, soggy thing in the water. He looks down at it as it grabs it with its claws and nibbles on it. He lowers himself to it and merges himself with its body. He looks down at the thing he knows is food in his claws. He bends down to nibble it again and sharply turns about. He trudges over to a dry area, the soggy thing in his mouth. It tastes awful, but his stomach aches painfully, so he swallows it.

His tail slithers as he creeps about, looking for the entryway back home. Maybe he can learn to manipulate this body. Maybe he can stay like this for awhile.

Maybe he's not done living yet.

(No, I don't know, it's 3:30 AM and I wanted to write something... so I just took the end of Firewing and expanded on it. You cannot end a book like that - that's the way I would end a book. It's a bad ending. Just bad.)


End file.
